My Best Friend's Bird-Self (John x Davesprite Fanfiction)
by cocoacremegirl
Summary: "You're telling me that, you, John 'Not-A-Homosexual' Egbert, have fallen head over heels down the metaphorical stairs of romance, in love with my flying orange bird-self, who is a sprite, no less?" (Or, "In which John Egbert falls in love with Davesprite." Hilarity will ensue. Post-Sburb, on a new planet that's like Earth, where trolls and humans co-exist.)


I've always had a hard time keeping secrets and stuff to myself. It was never really all that bad of a thing, though. It only really worsened during the game, specifically during the ship.

Even though Jade and Davesprite and the chess people and salamanders and things like that were there, it was still pretty lonely. So, maybe that's why it worsened? But I think it might be this whole "can't keep to myself" thing that causes my end, from embarrassment, or otherwise. But still, there I am, standing with a friend of mine or something like that, and suddenly, I just start talking. It's like a flood of things I want to talk about, but they can't all get out at once, which causes a lot of backup, and then I forget things. But as we continue talking, I remember, and blurt those out too.

And sometimes, I just see a friend and I instantly want to start talking. It's getting so annoying, because I take up way too much of the time they need for work, and stuff!

Which brings me to now. Right now, I am standing with Dave in his studio apartment, and we're talking about apple juice. Well, we were five minutes ago. I don't know what happened to that conversation. It completely changed to Davesprite. And, oh, God, and now, Dave's staring me down because I'm fidgeting. I don't know what to do! I want to tell Dave, hell, he deserves to know. It _is_ himself we're talking about here. But wouldn't that kind of make it like I'm confessing my love to Dave himself? But at the same time, it wouldn't. It would be different. Shit, does this make me zoophilic? Oh, God, don't put it that way!

"Dude, John, chill the fuck out. You've paced the space around my bed about twenty times in the past minute," Dave says, I notice that his eyebrows are raised now. He's confused.

"Shit, I'm sorry!" I apologize, stopping dead in my tracks. He shakes his head.

"Sit next to papa bear and tell him what's causing these hella amounts of anxiety," Dave pats the space next to him on the bed. Did he really just call himself papa bear? That's enough to make me chuckle and crawl back on the bed next to him. I cross my legs (criss cross apple sauce, I guess? Even though that's a little dumb to say now that I'm almost twenty one). "Now what's going on in Egbert's mind?"

"You're a goof," I say, and Dave nods.

"And how does that make you feel?" Dave presses his hands together, lacing his fingers together and pressing the side of his index fingers to his mouth. Is he really doing the therapist thing?

"Are you doing the therapist thing?" I comment.

"Maybe, maybe not," Dave gives another little nod. "But in all seriousness, what's been going on in that head of yours? You've paced enough to make me think you're gonna have an anxiety attack."

"Nothing much, actually. Just a little... Thing, that's been on my mind lately, is all!" I smile brightly, shutting my eyes a bit in the process.

"Hmm, you've piqued my interests. What's up?" Dave unlaces his fingers from each other, and adjusts his sitting position on the bed, leaning back and putting his weight on one of his hands, while he brings a knee up and rests his other arm on his knee.

Should I tell Dave? He deserves to know, he really does! We're best bros, surely he'll understand if I tell him. In fact, I am so gonna tell him. This is so gonna happen. I open my mouth to say what it is, but my words catch in my throat, and I can't actually manage any sound out. All the while, he just sits there, staring at me through his shades expectantly.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Dave says, "I understand that. I mean, some shit is just too personal to bring up. Like, if you were having trouble pitching a-"

"I have a crush on Davesprite." I blurt, interrupting him mid-sentence. From the looks of it, both of us are equally as caught off guard by me suddenly saying that. I didn't mean to, he just said something, and it caused it to come out! Of course, I was trying to say it before, but that's different! I had shut my mouth, I wasn't even aware of me about to say it.

It's silent for all of two minutes before Dave speaks up.

"Hold up, hold the press, hold the phone," Dave pressed his hand foreword in the air, as if pressing a button on a machine. "You're telling me that, you, John 'Not-A-Homosexual' Egbert, have fallen head over heels down the metaphorical stairs of romance, in love with my flying orange bird-self, who is a sprite, no less?" Unsure of whether or not he wants me to reply vocally or not, I give a little nod.

Dave's silent for a long while after that, and stares at me through his shades. I can feel his gaze burning into me, and I squirm under it. It's making me uncomfortable, and I instantly regret telling Dave about this whole thing.

"Well, it's your lucky day, Egbert," Dave says, "Because you're going to get set up by the one person who knows him inside and out... Sorta."

"So... You're going to match me up with him, or something?" I ask.

"Hell yes. Let's do this," Dave stands from his bed, and grins like a little kid who was just offered candy (or, in Dave's case, apple juice). "Oh, and I warned you about those stairs, bro."

I roll my eyes at his complete and utter dorkiness. "Shut up."


End file.
